Slipped Away
by Happy Sock
Summary: Three orphans. One supposed chance at life. Can they risk it all- everything- to be safe? Rated T for swearing, violence, and kissing.
1. Slipped Away

**Slip Away**

I couldn't look. I just couldn't. I could not bear to look at the wildfire behind me, eating up the forest.

All I could do was take both of their hands- Peter's callused hand, slipping into mine perfectly, and little boy named Johnny, my hand far too big for him. We ran through the forest, ducking beneath trees that would catch on fire. Some branches lashed out at my face, leaving blood trickling down my tan face.

Johnny was getting tired after five minutes- at the rate we were going, any five year old would drop to the ground in exhaustion. He slowed down to a jog, and Peter picked him up, his warm hand leaving my warm hand. We broke into a sprint again, ignoring the cries of pain behind us and screams of the tourists at Sandy Burr Lake and Forest. "Izzybelle..." Johnny whimpered. I touched his face, my hand cupping his whole left side. "Shh. It'll be okay, Johnny. I'm right here. Peter's here too." Peter looked down at the green eyed, brown haired little boy, who felt safe in his 'mommy' and 'daddy' hands.

I met Peter at school, when we were in third grade. I suddenly disliked him, because all the girls were fawning over him and he was nothing special. But in Social Studies, when we got paired up for a project, I asked if we could go over his house. He was harsh about his home, frowning and stalking off. So we ended up at my guardians house. I was a orphan, and I uncovered from him, from small details, that his father had been in the forges, and got killed along with his mother, who was helping him on a mission, to discover a indestructible metal. We've been friends ever since.

But we were here, on a field trip, when the dry spring decided we should have a wild fire. I saw a kid with his mother, but she got enveloped in the flames, and I picked him up, told him my name and Peter's name, and said we're all together because we have no family. He cried in my arms, and I comforted him. Then the flames caught up with us, and here I am at the present moment.

"Izzybelle! Izzybelle! Peeta is tiyerd!" Johnny cried frantically.

I sighed. Peter was getting tired, and I could see it. "I'll take him." I offered. Peter wasn't in a mood to fight. He nodded, and I took the small boy in my arms. I carried him exactly how Peter did: cradling him near my neck. He settled in, rubbing his head against my shoulder, as if I was a pillow. "Hey, there's the border!"

He was right. There was the border, but wouldn't the tree fall and spread more fire? "But the falling trees would flame up and burn everything around." He considered it, and shrugged, running like the wind. "We just have to run away."

I blinked at him, trying to catch up. "Like, _actual_ run away?"

He nodded. "We live in Bellerose Terrace. New York City isn't far. I promise. We'll go to my house and pack things."

I shifted Johnny as we ran. "Alright." I nodded. "Your house it is."

His blonde hair, his blue eyes, his pink lips- all smiled at me, and he gave me a thumbs up. "Okay, so what do we do first, Belle?"

I looked at him, my lungs on fire. "Stay alive."


	2. Escape

**Escape**

Isabelle realized she never been to Peters house.

Never.

She never heard him speak about his house, mention it or even say he _had_ one. But then she remembered the orphanage, and figured that must be his home. Isabelle's foots matched Johnny's, on the sidewalk, far away from the terror scene, speaking softly to the young boy. He had a tear stained face, and she felt something wrap around my leg. At first she thought it was a killer who was going to stab her leg, or a snake wanting to kill her. Isabelle looked down and saw soot dotted hair.

_Johnny_.

He's bawling into her jeans, and all she can do is only pick him up and hug him. No words could comfort him now, and Peter stops and turns around, a few paces ahead. He saw the older girl, her eyes tight together, tears rolling down her face as she stroked the little boys hair, somewhat comforting him. She looks like his mother, comforting Peter when he was younger. His lips form a hard line. "Come on! We can't have all day, and they can't find us! We need to hurry up! Now stop standing there like the _idiot_ you are. You shouldn't be crying." He shouted.

Peter's words felt like he had punched Isabelle a hundred times in the gut.

Her eyes flashed open, with blue at the irises but green everywhere else, pure hatred in both colors. "You know what? I feel _sorry_ for this kid. You try comforting a crying kid who had just lost their mother! I'll hurry up when I feel like it. So what if they find us? And I'm not the _idiot,_ you are, jackass!"

"Stop fighting, Peeta! Don't make Izzy say bad things! Pw-ease!" Johnny dropped down and dragged Isabelle to Peter, who had stopped and turned at Johnny's burst. They stood face to face. "Now. Kiss and make up." They both blinked, surprise taking the spot of hatred. Isabelle crouched down to Johnny's height. "Johnny," She looked at him in the eye, "do we have to?"

Johnny nodded up and down, the reaction the two teens strangely wanted. "When Mommy fought with her friend, they always kissed and made up. They do it in Cars 2, when Sally and Lightning fought, me thinks. Or was that Toy Story...?"

"Okay, then," Peter also dropped down to his height. "Where?"

"Peter!" Isabelle hissed. He held his hands up, but he was grinning. "Sorry. I need to know the facts. I've been looking forward to this day."

"No-what? I just fought with you and now you want to _kiss_ me?" She hissed, all in his face. Johnny clapped. "Yay, do it now!"

She backed off from the opponent and turned back to the small boy. "Johnny, maybe later." _Maybe never, if I'm lucky, too!_

He shrugged. "It's okay. At least no fights."

* * *

So when the trio finally made it to Peter's house, Isabelle was surprised it wasn't the orphanage. It was a small house, with a baby blue coating, with a green grass and flowers, like someone cared for it. Peter walked in like this was his house- and in a way, it was- and Isabelle and Johnny followed. Johnny went in first, and as soon as Isabelle stepped in, she saw blackness.

Seriously.

A black bag was thrown at her face. "Dammit," Peter cursed. He meant to throw it at her _feet_, not her _face!_

"Did you mean to do that?" Isabelle asked him, stepping over the black duffle. "N-no! Of course not!" The room was yellow with a tiled floor, and Peter stood with two other duffles, probably ready to throw at her to not come in the house.

"Hope you didn't, Peter. So, do you have anything we can protect ourselves with?" What? Did she mean like knives to _kill_ someone?

"Are you a murderer, Belle? I don't trust you with knives, especially in Home Ec."

The blood rushed to her face. "I didn't mean to cut your finger! It was in the way. And I prefer bow and arrows, ever since I went to a ca-"

They were interrupted with Johnny running through the halls, yelling like Tarzan as he held toilet paper above his head, running out of the room.

"Oh, brother..." Isabelle mumbled as she sprinted off to stop him. "You know what, Belle?" Peter yelled, grinning, watching her brown hair fly behind her, "I might like this kid!"

And Peter grabbed the three duffles- including the one he hit Isabelle with- and headed to the kitchen. He spun on his heel and walked forward and entered the kitchen, turning towards the pantry. Cheesy Doodles, chips, bread, salt, pepper...anything he could find that would not rot or at least stay preserved. Something was missing...

Healthy things! Peter remembered (sadly, in his case) and opened up the fridge. He looked at everything. What would he eat? What would Belle eat? What would that cute kid, Johnny eat? "Belle!" He walked to the entryway and smacked into Isabelle, her elbow hitting his shoulder. "Sorry," She smirked, obviously happy she did that. "What?"

"What do we-"

A shreiking scream emitted from the house.

"Johnny," They both breathed, looking at each other, eyes growing wide. They sprinted towards the screams, Isabelle grabbing a knife, just in case.

* * *

A freaking headless thing was moaning, cowering over Johnny. Isabelle pushed the human like thing away and threw the knife, stabbing it deeply. It pulled out the knife, unharmed. Her eyes grew wide. "Do you have something else I can throw?"

Peter shrugged, horrifed. "There's a bow and arrows in the base-"

"Thanks!" She shouted, running past.

What was the girl up to _now_?


	3. Killer

**Killer**

_*Isabelle's POV*_

_Bow. Arrow. Bow. Arrow. Johnny. Peter. Bow. Arrow. Bow. Arrow._

All those thoughts were running in my head. How could I have been so headstrong thinking I could save him from that headless human, netherless asking if I could kill it? I was highly doubtful of the bow and arrows. Maybe he was sending me out of the room. Maybe he needed to save Johnny, and knew I could save myself . . . some how. I couldn't think of anything else, so I just knew I should hope for a bow and arrow.

And just hope.

I opened the door and closed it as soon as I got inside. The light seeping under the cracks showed me it was a pretty old stair case.

Oh well. Might have to do.

"Belle? I killed it!" Peter yelled. I turned, and started to run into the door, only for it to be swung open and to almost crash into Peter. "You were good with the sword too."

_Peter killed that thing? But then- isn't that murder?_

I looked upwards to see a girl with blonde ringlets spilling across her face, and downwards, to her shoulders. She had tanned skin, as if she slept in the sun and woke up in the nick of time to not get a burn. She was pretty, but her eyes were a bit . . . intimidating. A light gray, and I could just see her trying to take me down if we had a thumb wrestle. "Annabeth."

"Isabelle. That's Johnny and Peter."

"Oh, Isabelle? I thought your name was Izzy or Belle, they way they talked about you. Do you prefer Isabelle, Izzy, or Belle?"

"Belle, please."

"Good choice. It means beauty." She winked at me. I blinked. I _did not_ get the message she was trying get through. I shrugged it off. "May I ask, Annabeth, why you're here?"

"Oh. Well, have you heard of the Greek Gods?" I nodded, and so did Peter. Johnny didn't understand. "Who?"

"Johnny, it's people who live forever who have special powers. Stories were made up for entertainment." I explained, trying to get the words as little as possible for him to understand. Thunder rumbled in the distance. "I wouldn't say that if I were you." Annabeth warned.

"Okay . . . go on," I signaled a motion to continue.

"Anyways, they had babies with mortals. These were called half-bloods, or demi-gods. Half human, half god. The Greek Gods do exist, and your father and mothers- one or the other- have been watching over you. You are from a long line of heroes, and they still have off springs today. They move with the Western Civilization. Right now, the home of the gods- Mount Olympus- is stationed on the 600th floor of the Empire State Building. do you understand?"

I _was_ going to point out that the State Building had about two hundred floors, but Annabeth seemed pretty serious.

"Got it. My dad or mom is a Greek God, they are not myths- and you're claiming I'm a demi-god, and that a great race of elite gods is in the Empire State Building?"

Annabeth nodded.

"Oh boy. . ."

* * *

_*Peter POV*_

Okay, when Belle ran out of the room, I was scared. She pushed the monster away and threw a knife into it's chest. I mean, how could she do that? She threw a knife. A butcher knife! Then I had no idea what she would do- I just wanted her to have protection, at least. I know I could've made it out with Johnny. "Catch!"

I thought Belle was back. I turned around and saw a sword butt flying out at me. It was a I grabbed it at the right time, but it was flying so fast and I stumbled back, and I cut the thing. I mean, I certainly didn't mean to, but one minute the thing is moaning, and then there's a _hiss_ as I stumble back, and the moaning stops.

"Izzy! Where's Izzybelle?" Johnny scrambles up and hugs my legs.

"Belle's coming, Johnny. I sent her to the basement." I reply, stroking his soot colored hair. I guess I don't look too good myself, and I know Belle has cuts all over her face, and so does Johnny and me too. I just wish I have some wires to fiddle with- Mom told me to do that whenever I have s strong feeling. And she was right- it helped. My mind was clearer. Right now, all I could worry about is where that sword came from and if Belle was okay.

"Belle? I killed it!" I yelled, to a door that led to the basement. I opened the door, and our bodies nearly collided.

"You did good with the sword too."

I looked upwards at a girl who looked like a tanned princess. She had blonde ringlets falling, spilling like a waterfall. Her eyes were stormy gray, and she was probably 17, four years older than me and Belle.

So the girls started talking, right? I'm not listening because it's girl talk. Johnny hold my hands and starts making letters.

_Do you trust her?_

I nodded.

_I do too, Petea._

I smiled.

"Got it. My dad or mom is a Greek God, they are not myths- and you're claiming I'm a demi-god, and that a great race of elite gods is in the Empire State Building?" Isabelle asked. The girl nodded.

"Oh boy . . ."

Sh ushered us out of the house, telling us that more of those headless things were probably coming. I looked back to my house. Would this be the last time I saw it? Would I see it again? I didn't have anything much, so I wasn't so protective.

"Do you hope that they won't come again? Those headless things?"

"Acephali. They're headless humanoids. The one that you attacked . . . that was one of the leaders . . . maybe _you're_ the Acephali were talking about. . ." She looked at Isabelle and me. Her eyes flickered to Johnny, too. "What were they speaking about?"

"_Three half-bloods unite with fire and destruction. Taking down races, one by one, until monsters can stand no longer._ When did you guys meet?"

"A forest. Bad fire. Eats everything in sight." Johnny described. "Cuts from running away from bad fire."

"Oh. I'm so sorry about that," She apologized. "Wild fires are scary." There was something about her voice as if she knew who I was. "I've got to get you to Camp."

"Where?" We all asked in unision.

"Camp Half-Blood."


	4. Camp

**Camp**

_"A lot of parents pack up their troubles and send them off to summer camp."  
Raymond Duncan_

_*Isabelle POV*_

"Camp? What Camp?" Johnny asked, his blue eyes wide with fear. Annabeth beckoned us to a car. "I'm taking you there, Camp. We call it that because the name is too long, and it'd attract _them._ You can train to be a hero. Camp Half-blood, the camp for people like us. We'll be safe there. You have a family there. Half-brother and sisters."

"Are you sure?" I asked. She nodded. I was a little bit wary on the subject on 'half brothers and sisters'. Did I really have a family I didn't know about? Well, then they've been a pretty crappy family, not knowing I existed. But then I again, I never knew they existed either.

"I'm not trying to steal you. If anything, they will." She jerked her thumb behind her, where more of those Acephali- those weird headless things- were coming.

"Johnny, get in the car. Peter, you do the same. Me and Annabeth are right behind you." Johnny scrambled to the car, Annabeth and Peter right behind Johnny.

"Why don't you kill them?" I asked, jogging after them.

"They'd just reappear." Annabeth explained. "They sort have been...reappearing. Kill one and another takes its place. It gets really hard, sometimes." I could tell it seemed really hard, especially when they are always coming back from the dead. I stopped at the car. It was a silver van, like the kind that plumbers have. Peter held the door open for me, and beckoned me inside.

"Sorry there's no room," Annabeth was in the driver's seat with her seat buckle on. "You're going to sit in Peter's lap we don't have backseats or a shot gun seat, and this thing hasn't been used in years. I would've taken the flying chariot, but that had a crash landing last time..."

My eyes widened from the two statements, and I was so lucky I could never blush. If I did, well, I'd be as ripe as a tomato. I was going to sit in Peter's lap and there was a flying chariot she could've used, which was _clearly_ unlicensed on the road.

"Come on, Belle, I know you want to..." Peter grinned and wiggles his eyebrows.

I narrowed my eyes.

I sighed and hopped into his lap, into the car, slamming the door behind me. I raised my elbow forward and pulled it back, stabbing him in the ribs. "Sorry," he wheezed. I just grinned.

"Sorry Belle." Annabeth turned and sent me a apologetic smile. "Hold on to her, Peter."

Annabeth floored the gas that nearly sent me flying through the windshield. If it wasn't for Peter's arms, I would've been killed or having major blood loss. Peter held onto me carefully, but when she floored it he wrapped his arms around me. A sharp pain erupted on my forehead, when we jerked forwars and I touched it to see what had happened. A red was stained on my and Peter let go of holding me tight to see what damage had happened.

He saw the blood and tried to rip a piece of his shirt off, which was a bit a strain for him, because it wasn't like those flimsy pieces of cloth. In the end, he was successful and held it to my bleeding wound, which had slowed down. He tried to press it to my head but I smacked his hand away. "I'm not 'a damsel in distress', you know." I hissed, proud that I used a line from a movie. He held his hands up in defense. "Sorry."

I snatched the cloth out of his hands in silence, not talking to anyone, slipping to the floor with a thunk.

* * *

"Camp!"

Johnny's voice rang out above me. I looked in his direction, only to see his head plastered against the window. "Camp!"

"Yes, it's Camp." Annabeth called to him, laughing. "Your new home."

I've never exactly knew a 'home'. My mom died giving birth, and my dad never really showed up- never knew him, either. Moved from house to house, relative to relative never with a legal guardian, always changing, switching back in forth, like the light switch we got to build in mechanics class (Mine blew up. I have a knack for doing that).

"Home?" Peter asked. "True _home_?" His voice was a bit nervous.

"Yeah. An actual home?"

"Yes. Welcome to home, also known as Camp Half-Blood."

* * *

**Sorry I never updated! I'm Cruella De Vil, btw, the lead in our play. :D Can't update alot though. :( So...**

**SORRY!**


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